That's the number of times I took Peyton in and out of her car seat yesterday. Seriously, I counted.
It was in and out, in and out, in and out ad nauseum. She was a trooper, though, and would often just look at me with you're-kidding-right? eyes and heavy sighs as I buckled her back in.
No tears. No complaints. I think she just gave up.
Landon was close behind with 18 separate buckle/unbuckle stops in his booster seat. At one point he looked at me as I reached over him yet again to fasten his seat belt and just smiled. No words, just a knowing glance of empathy.
I'm writing this post today simply to document for myself one of the trying days of parenthood, because someday when I'm missing these baby days and am nestled firmly in the role of mom to older kids, I want to remember the struggles and the busyness and the sweetness of this wonderfully chaotic life.
And then I'll probably cry.
1 comment:
I have to tell myself that often. Our 7 year old tells these really long stories, I mean really long, and if you interrupt him he starts all over. But I keep telling myself that there will be a day when he doesn't have time to talk to me and tell me stories.
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